


Milestones

by merentha13



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-29 23:38:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3914950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merentha13/pseuds/merentha13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An additional scene for <i>Discovered in a Graveyard</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Milestones

Raymond Doyle was in a bad way. He knew it, but could do nothing about it – including letting someone know how much he was hurting. Kept in a continual drugged state of semi-consciousness all he knew was that he’d been shot and was now in hospital. Movement to his left and warm fingers tousling the dishevelled fringe on his forehead meant the nurse was back. He welcomed the rush of pain relief that flooded his veins and let himself be taken under the drug’s spell.

The morphine induced dreams were odd ones and he wasn’t surprised to find that this time he was standing along a snow covered road that stretched out in both directions from where he stood – a line of decisions made and questions not yet asked. Previous dreams had had him examining his motivation and dedication to his job in CI5. He wondered what this one would bring.

Footprints dotted the snow covered ground from his left and ended where he stood. They were irregular –sometimes with no discernible pattern as if the walker was dancing and sometimes they were close together and deep as if the traveller carried the weight of the world. Looking to the right, the road was barren – no one had yet trod a path there. He feared that that task was being left up to him. It struck him that there was only one set of footprints and the single trail raised the vague memory of loneliness and made his eyes burn.

As he wandered back along the single line of tracks images danced across his vision – images blurred about the edges and accented by coloured lights. There was a child celebrating a birthday, waiting for his father to arrive before lighting candles and cutting into the cake. Somehow he knows the father never comes and the cake is never eaten. A few more steps bring him to a street fight. That same child, older and harder, is wielding a blade. The knife draws blood and the boy looks down in horror at his own red stained hand. The knife clatters to the pavement. The child runs, but is brought down by a blow to the side of his head. He can feel a sympathetic ache in his own cheek. 

He moved further along the path. A graduation ceremony. Young men dressed in police uniforms, laughing and slapping each other’s backs in congratulations. One new officer is searching the crowd, looking for a familiar face. The invitation had been sent, a reply received, but the young man’s mother was nowhere to be seen. A feeling that he shouldn’t be surprised settled heavily in his heart.

A few more steps took him to a familiar pub. Another celebration. He’d made it into CI5. Passed all the tests with some of the highest scores. He and his fellow agents were at the Red Lion to revel in their accomplishments. He’d wanted to share a drink with his new partner, but W.A.P. Bodie had joined in with his army buddies and there didn’t seem to be any room for an ex-plod. 

He continued along the road that marked the milestones of his life. It seemed a lonely and hopeless course. But the realisation dawned that each of these events had forced him to become other than what he had been, had forced a reinvention that made him who he was today. And he was satisfied with that man.

Walking to the start of the tracks and looking back he noted absently that there was still only one set of prints - his own recent wander hadn’t marred the snow. He turned to the unblemished trail on his right. A fog had started to drift towards him. The road was no longer clear. He felt a tearing pain in his chest and a pressure around his left hand. Muffled sounds filled his head, distant beeping, ragged breathing and a voice calling to him. “C’mon, Ray. Fight, dammit! Don’t you leave me, you bastard.” The fog cleared a bit and he now saw two paths in front of him. He walked a few paces along one of the paths and the sounds and visions that had held him were gone. It was peaceful and quiet here. Looking down, he saw one set of footprints. He stopped and remembered - _’don’t leave me...’_ He turned and made his way back to the place where the path had split and took a few steps along the opposite trail.

The pain in his chest and the pressure on his left hand returned and he welcomed them both. He twined his fingers through the ones tightly holding his own and opened his eyes. 

“Decided to join us, then?” The flippancy of Bodie’s words was belied by the concern in his eyes and the roughness of his voice. “Going to stay for a while, this time?”

Doyle nodded and briefly closed his eyes. The road was still there but this time there were two sets of footprints, side-by-side and matching stride, heading down the right-hand path towards the milestones waiting for them both.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Tea and Swiss Roll Weekly Obbo: Prompt = Milestones


End file.
